


Letters

by EllieStormfound



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Fluff, Geralt is curious, Jaskier writes diary, M/M, just a bit of softness for our bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27325141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieStormfound/pseuds/EllieStormfound
Summary: In which Geralt asks his bard why he writes a diary
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 67





	Letters

“What are you writing?” Geralt asked, nodding to the leather bound book in Jaskier’s lap and the elegant burgundy quill he was holding.   
The witcher sat on the other side of their campfire, sharpening his swords.   
“That’s my diary,” Jaskier said without looking up, dunking the tip of the quill in the small ink pot that was balancing precariously on his knee. 

The fire was crackling, flames reaching up in the sky sending sparks even higher.   
Geralt liked those evenings. No loud, crowded taverns or inn rooms with thin walls, even Jaskier quieter than usual, his constant chatter silenced by writing.  
It was not that Geralt didn’t like talking with Jaskier, but on those evenings Jaskier was more contemplative, and thought longer about his answers.

“Why bother writing something no one will read?” Geralt asked after a while. He had always wondered about that. Why did people write diaries? He had his bestiary, where he added information about monsters he had fought, but it had a practical use.

“I will read it myself,” Jaskier said, finally looking over to him. Geralt could see ink stains on his fingers and one on his cheek.  
He suppressed a smile, frowned and hummed.  
“I often read it in the winter,” the bard continued, “it helps me remember details of our fights, facts about monsters, that I can put into my new songs.”  
So it was a bit like his bestiary after all, Geralt thought and nodded. He looked down at his blade again, moving the whetstone, slowly and methodically in exactly the right angle down.

“And sometimes,” Jaskier continued slowly, as if he wasn’t sure he should, “reading it helps when I miss you.” The last words were spoken so quietly that only a witcher could hear them.  
Geralt’s head whipped up and he stared at Jaskier, whose cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink.

“Miss me?” Geralt echoed in a soft voice.  
Jaskier furrowed his brows, “of course I miss you,” he said, looking Geralt straight in the eye, “you are my best friends, we don’t see each other for months during winter.”

After this the silence returned. Geralt was glad that Jaskier hadn’t asked him if he missed him too, because he would have probably blurted out ‘no’ without thinking. The winter days in Kaer Morhen were filled with training and repair work on the old keep and the evenings with talking and playing gwent with the other wolves.   
But now that he thought about it, he remembered lonely nights where his bed felt strangely empty and his room strangely silent. 

\-------------

The days had gotten short and the leaves had turned from green to yellow to a reddish brown as Geralt and Jaskier arrived at the fork in the road where they would say their goodbyes for the year. Geralt would head north and Jaskier west to Oxenfurt. 

“Here we are again, old friend,” Jaskier said, turning to Geralt and opening his arms. Geralt had gotten used to Jaskier’s frequent hugs and this one, the one before they parted, was always the best. It lasted longer than usual, a firm embrace, inhaling the scent of the other for the last time of the year. 

When they finally untangled Jaskier said, “oh, Geralt, wait, I have something for you!”  
He put his backpack down on the ground so he could better rummage through it. A moment later he produced a stack of what looked like letters, bound together by a dark green velvet ribbon, like the ones he used on some of his trousers. 

“These are for you,” Jaskier said, handing him the stack of papers  
Geralt took them with a confused look, “what…”  
“It is not a diary, but I wrote down a few of our adventures during the year. I thought that maybe…” he trailed off for a moment, looking to the ground, “maybe when you think of me from time to time….I mean if you even think of me...you could read one of them.”  
He looked back up and smiled sheepishly. 

“I...ahm...thank you,” Geralt stammered, “that is...thank you, I will read them.” He turned around to roach to pack away the letters in one of his saddlebags and definitely not to hide his blush.   
A moment later he turned around, having regained his composure and they hugged again one last time.   
“That’s it for this year, my friend,” Jaskier said with a pat on Geralt’s shoulder, “farewell! See you in spring.”  
He turned around and made his way down the dusty road.

\-----------

It had been a few weeks since he arrived at Kaer Morhen. As always he had been glad to see the other wolf witchers again, training with them in the mornings, patching up broken walls and roofs in the afternoons, drinking too much white gull while playing gwent in the evenings. He had tried not to think about the letters. They were still tucked away safely in one of his saddlebags that lay in the huge wooden trunk at the end of his bed. 

Most of the time he was successful, his time and mind occupied with the winter tasks, but when the routine set in, his mind began to wander. 

On one of those evenings he sighed and knelt down in front of the chest. It opened with a creak and the mixture of scents that reminded him of the path reached his nostrils: the spicy scent of campfires, the familiar scent of Roach, leather, oils and...lavender and honey, that was unmistakably Jaskier’s.

Carefully he opened the saddlebag and extracted the letters, the scent of lavender increasing. Geralt smiled, he was sure Jaskier had sprayed some of his perfume on the papers.   
His thumb stroked the soft green ribbon, reminding him of the ridiculous bow on the back of Jaskier’s trousers. “Because my butt is a gift, Geralt” Jaskier had said with an indignant huff, as Geralt had remarked on it.

He stood up, walked over to his bed and sat down. Slowly he opened the bow and laid it carefully next to him on the bed.  
The envelope was made from thick paper. There was no seal, so he opened the flap and pulled out the letter. With a smile he recognized Jaskier’s beautiful handwriting, clear and readable but with extensive swirls, taking up more space than necessary. 

“Geralt, my dear friend, I hope this letter finds you well,   
I guess that you didn’t open this letter right away, but after a while…”

Geralt grinned at the accuracy and read on.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! <3


End file.
